mm 


-P-58 


r* '•' (m 




c^'yy 




c<l 




tz?< : <? 


^pLSasi 


rc| 


5*<Cp£fl 


lT"-<4^ 


g£?SOi 


ROT 


pi 


r ci 


fpH 







N* 



V 



#^r ■■■■•*•$' 
V 



K LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



HP 

m. 









K UXITED STATES OF AMERICA, g 



k 






p£ 



IlKSfS 



mm 







o 






THE 



ITALIAN BRIDE. 



A PLAY— IN FIVE ACTS. 



M^ ^fktlj s oQ 



A 



Written for Miss Eliza Logan, and published 
for private distribution. 



SAVANNAH: 
JOHN M. COOPER & CO. 

1856. 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by 

JOHN M. COOPER & CO., 

la the Clerk's Office ot the District Court of the Southern 

District of Georgia. 






DEDICATION. 



TO MY FATHER: 

This first emanation from a mind, which 

it has always been his care and delight to cherish 

and improve, is affectionately 

Dedicated. 

Savannah, 1856. 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE, 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



Clodio Renaldi — A young Venetian, poor but of noble 

family. 

Hugo Di Coiielli — His friend, a powerful noble. 

Lorenzo D'Arpa — A dissolute noble and gamester. 

Giovanni — A wealthy merchant, father to Venetia. 

Alberto Frangipani — Captain of the Guard. 

Doge of Venice. 

Friar. 

Antonio — Servant to Giovanni. 

Pescara — ■ ") 

y Senators and members of the Council. 
Dandolo — J 

Executioner. 

Venetia — Daughter to Giovanni, betrothed to Clodio. 
Erancesca — Her cousin. 

Attendants, Guards, Officers, Nobles, &c. 
The scene is laid in Venice. 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE 



ACT I. 

Scene 1. — A Street in Venice. 
Enter Clodio and Hugo, meeting. 
Hugo. Why, how now, Clodio ! On thy brow sits joy, 
And as thou walk'st along thy spirit seems 
So light and airy as to spurn the earth 
And all the dull mortality it bears. 
Come, whither go'st thou with that happy face? 

Clodio. A happy face reflects a happy heart : 
I go, my friend, to old Giovanni's house ; 
A casket which enshrines my only gem, 
But one so bright, so rare, so pure withal 
That earth's most mighty potentate might wish 



10 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

To grace his crown with such — and wish in vain, 
For the world boasts no other gem like mine ! 

Hugo. Oh, thou'rt in love, and, being so, wouldst swear 
Thy lady-love perfection, and adorn' d 
With ev'ry virtue, grace angelical. 
Thou'd'st say the morning dew-drop, crystal-clear, 
Is not so liquid as her azure eye; 
The ruby pales before her glowing lip, 
And the pure pearl upon her snowy neck 
Darkens with rage to find itself surpass' d : 
A crown could add no lustre to that brow 
Where the bright jewels of her eyes are set, 
And ev'ry virtue which could grace high heav'n 
Seeks a retreat within Venetia's breast. 
Oh Clodio, Clodio, how I pity thee ! 

Clodio. And why? 

Hugo. Because I see thou art in love. 
Trust me a lover sees not with his eyes; 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 11 

But blind and dazzled by his passion's glare, 
And all his senses in confusion tost, 
He sees and listens thro' the heart alone. 
So all thy sense is gather' d to thy heart ! 

Clodio. I would not have it elsewhere : I would trust 
Soul, thought, life, sense, heart — ev'rything on earthy 
Aye, and hereafter to her guardian care. 
Believe me, Hugo, 'tis a worthy trust: — 
For there is not a surer path to Heav'n 
Than where a virtuous wife points out the way, 
And leading gently down the path of life, 
Makes Love the guide to Immortality. 

Hugo. Now, by Saint Mark, love makes the eloquent ! 

But who comes here with such disordered steps, 

And with such fury flashing from his eyes ? 

'Tis that foul stain on fair Nobility, 

The by-word of all Venice, base Lorenzo. 

[brawl. 
Clodco. To judge his looks, fresh from some drunken 



12 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Hugo. Or it may be, perchance, that he hath left, 
His loaded dice at home, and keener rogues 
Have spoil'd him of his plunder. 

Clodio. Hold, he comes — 
(Enter Lorenzo hastily : they regard him coldly.) 

Lorenzo. Give ye good day, fair Signors : by my faith 
Methinks ye look but coldly on my greeting. 
How, Signor Clodio! With the fairest bride 
And the most wealthy that our City boasts, 
Hast thou no smile to greet a friend withal? 
Thy fortune, Sir, should make thee complaisant. 

Clodio. (Coldly.) 
I thank thee, Sir ! 

Lorenzo. ( Sneeringly.) 
So, so — thou thankest me : 

Then thank thee for thy thanks, and so we're quits : 
I owe thee nothing for thy courtesy. 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 13 

" I thank thee, Sir" — good faith, thou speak'st as 

though 
The blood of Arpa did not run as pure 
As that Corelli or Renaldi boasts. 

Hugo. The gen'rous blood of Arpa did run pure 
And bright as crystal, while thy noble sire 
Vicentio D'Arpa bore that honor' d name : 
When with bold heart and ever ready blade, 
He fired the breasts of all the noble youth 
'Gainst Istria's savage crew. Then was the time 
That Arpa's spotless 'scutcheon was as fair 
As any proud Nobility could boast : 
'Twas an estate which each aspiring soul 
Strove hard to emulate ! That time is past. 

Lorenzo. I thank thee Sir ! and they indeed speak true 
Who tell in wonder of thy eloquence. 
Thou heraldest the praises of my house 
With such sincerity and noble zeal 

2 



14 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

As well might gain the hearts of all its sons : 
And for the veneration that I bear 
My honor' d Father's mem'ry I o'erlook 
The ill-disguised offence thy words imply. 

Hugo. He quickly sees offence, who merits it. — 
Clodio, we must begone : good morrow, Sir. 
{Exeunt Clodio and Hugo.) 

Jjorenzo. Now may ten thousand torments tear their hearts ! 
Am I deformed — less fair than other men — 
Less brave — a fool or what ? — Twice scorn' d to-day ! 
Once by these upstart Lords, whose house to mine 
Is as the heath-furze to the spreading oak: 
Their scorn I well can bear : it rankles not. {Laughs.') 
But this plebeian dog, who spurn'd my suit — 
Aye, there's the thorn which festers in my pride, 
A bitter pain, no balm can cure save blood. 
The base and low-born churl, to scorn my suit ! 
Too great an honor for his common blood. 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 15 

And oh, what wounds me worse, this smooth-faced 

spark, 

* 

Sleek Signor Clodio, takes the golden prize. 

Let them beware! For the same blood which once 
Urg'd stern Vicentio to his daring deeds 
Boils hotly in these veins, and outraged pride 
Lashes the steeds of passion madly on, 
Laughing to scorn the barriers of the law. 
Let them beware, or ere the wedding bells 
Chime gayly to the feast, they yet may know 
He triumphs not, whom Arpa calls a foe. 

(Exit.) 
Scene. II. — A Room in Giovanni's House. 
Giovanni. Thus have I won the goal of all my hopes ! 
The wish'd for end, which thro' long years of toil 
I watch' d with hope, scarce hoping 't would be 

reach' d. 
As when the seaman from a long sojourn 
'Midst wintry tempests and the boisterous seas 



16 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Which gird the struggling ocean's farthest verge, 
Views from afar the well-known, long-lov'd port, 
Around which center' d ev'ry happy dream, — 
So here I cast the anchor of my hopes, 
Blest with the thought that the dear child, whose 

love 
Gremm'd my poor life with brightness not its own, 
Will wed one worthy of her: one whose eye 
Can watch the gathering clouds of stormy life 
And with unquailing soul and fearless hand 
Ward off the threaten' d ill. My task is o'er, 
x\nd to the quiet portals of the grave 
I may direct my steps. Good morrow, son ! 

(Enter Clodio.) 
'Twas even now my thoughts were bent on thee. — 
I would detain thee but a little time 
From our Venetia, who with longing heart 
Awaits thy coming. 

Clodio. Say ou, good Father. 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 17 

Giovanni. I am an aged man and the last drops 
Are ebbing slowly from my vase of life. 
To-morrow's eve will see my child thy bride ! 
Oh, guard her well : fence round her happiness 
With all the bulwarks of the tend'rest love: 
Be thou the skilful engineer to rear 
The strong defences of her future fate : 
Let the sweet mem'ry of a thousand acts 
Of loving kindness cheer her thro' the world : 
So that at last when fate has done its worst 
And the cold gifts of age shall grace thy brow, 
Thou still may'st own that priceless gem of gems 
A worthy woman's love ! 

(Jlodio. Trust me I will ! 

Thou couldst not speak a theme to which my heart 

Could e'er respond more gladly than to this. 

Oh, my whole life shall be to live for her, 

And ev'ry beauteous flow'r which doth bloom 

Within life's garden will I pluck to weave 

2* 



18 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

A peerless wreath to crown her happiness. 

Giovanni. I doubt it not, but still a father's love 
Is ever tini'rous in a daughter's cause. 
Like the rash merchant who hath ventured all 
The hard-earn' d gains of many toilsome years 
In one last crowning voyage, so I trust 
The cherish 'd Bark of my heart's darling hopes, 
Bearing the rich freight of my life's whole love. 
To an untravers'd sea. Nay, speak not yet ! 
I know what thou would'st say and am content! 
But tell me now, my Lord; hast thou e'er seen 
A temper so controll'd, so soft, so sweet, 
As our Venetia has? 

Clodio. Why ask me this ? 
He questions not for knowledge who doth know 
The answer 'ere 'tis spoken. Those calm eyes, 
That quiet bosom and that placid face 
Too truly show a hcav'n of rest within, 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 19 

Where the fierce gust of passion never flaws 
The smiling waters of her peaceful soul. 

Giovanni. Why what a thing is Love, that thinks 
because 
The sky to-day is bright, 't will never cloud. 
(iZe leads Clodio to the Casement.} 

See'st thou, my Lord, how tranquilly and calm 
The Adriatic's smiling waters sleep? 
Let but the East wind blow and the fierce gusts 
Will rouse a Titan in those slumb'ring depths. 
That Titan's but an infant to the storm 
Which a strong passion instant would awake 
Within the peaceful heart Venetia owns. 

(Jlodio. I never shall believe it, 'till mine eyes 
Shall for themselves discern this flaw, you say 
Doth stain this priceless gem. 

Giovanni. Then may thine eyes 



20 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Be blind forever, Clodio ! 'Tis no slight 

And petty cause of sorrow that would hurl 

From his high seat the Angel who sits thron'd 

Presiding o'er the meekness of her soul : 

But some great woe, some mighty source of ill, 

Which would sweep rudely o'er the mind's sweet 

harp 
And crash harsh discord; and in all things else 
She is as exquisite as is the bud, 
Blushing beneath the kiss of morn's sweet dews 
And bursting into flow'r. Thus her mother was, 
And thus I lost her. Never let her know 
The Lord Lorenzo sought her guileless hand, 
Else— 

Clodio. Ha ! He seek her hand, licentious wretch ! — < 
The very thought is rank with misery! 
He dare to seek her hand, whose ev'ry thought — 

Giovanni. Nay, then, let it pass; I thought thou'd'st 
known it. 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 21 

Clodio. He seek her hand, when e'en the gondoliers 
Who throng the quay, cry "shame" upon his life: 
For lips like his, corrupt with dicers' oaths, 
Only to breathe her name were sacrilege. 

Giovanni Tush, let it pass ! I pray thee heed it not. 

In giving thee Venetia, I bestow 
The one fresh flow'ret in the wither' d wrecith 

That crowns my time-blanch' d brow. The worldly 
wealth 

I have, I destine for you both, so soon 

As earth shall close upon me. This parchment 

Secures the gift. 
(.He gives a parchment to Clodio, who after some hesi- 
tation take* it and places it in his bosom.) 

Clodio. My thanks for this would be 
Framing my lips to words already made 
By thee familiar to them. May Heav'n grant 
That many years yet smile upon thy life, 
Bearing upon their wings unclouded joy, 



22 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

'Ere I become the gainer by thy bounty. 
But whither go'st thou? 

Giovanni. To the Ducal Palace ! 
The State hath need of moneys and my word 
Is pledg'd to furnish them unto the Doge. 

Clodio. I do entreat thee go not out to-day ! 
I pray thee do not go. 

Giovanni. Not go, and why? 

{Jlodio. 'Tis but an hour since I met Lorenzo — 
And in his eyes there was a dev'lish gleam 
Of hate and malice; he doth love thee not 
And is a base bad man, whose words of hate 
Are couch' d in dagger-blows, and in his spite 
Thy gray hairs, Father, which would be as bars 
Of solid iron 'fore an honest arm, 
Would but incite his bloody nature on. 
I pray thee do not go : nay, if thou wilt, 
Let me go with thee ! 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 28 

Giovanni. These are boyish fears. 
Let thee go with me ? Aye, and if thou dost. 
A pretty coil would our Venetia make 
'Gainst her old Father. Nay, cold Lover, stay; 
Til make thee woo her if thou wilt or not. 

Cloclio. If thou wilt go, at least accept my dagger. 
Indeed, indeed, thou must. 

Giovanni. Pshaw ! This is folly. 
Well, well then, foolish boy, if 't must be so, — 
I'll take the plaything : so now, fare thee well. 
To night, I'll meet thee on the Rial to. 

(ExiL) 

Clodio. I would he had not gone abroad to-day! 
A dark foreboding nutters round my mind, 
And ever as I turn to thoughts of love, — 
Minist'ring Angels at Venetians shrine — 
Flaps its dark wings across my spirit's light, 
And shoots its poison, curdling in my heart. 



24 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

The cup of bliss is mantling at my lips, 
And ever as I strive to quaff its sweetness. 
This nameless horror shudders thro' my soul 
And blights the flow'rs on the goblets's brim. 
I've hear'd of dim presentiments which lurk 
In the dark hidden chambers of the brain, 
And, like a skeleton at gorgeous feasts, 
Stare ghastly in the face of each bright thought 
And scare it from its mirth : until Fate comes, 
The dreadful priest, who weds this tort' ring sprite 
To terrible reality. Oh Heav'n, 
If these dark vapors which infest my soul 
Rise from the future's black and mystic tarn, 
The dumb precursors of some monstrous ill — 
Spare, spare her guiltless head ! on me alone, 
Let the fell tide of fierce misfortune dash, 
But save her from the wreck ! Away, away, 
Ye dread Tormentors : my Venetia comes, 
And as the Sun doth sweep among the clouds 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 25 

Which veil his glorious presence, so the mists 
Which cloud my joy, flee hastening before 
The brightness of her beauty. My own Love ! 
{Enter VENETIA and FrANCESCA.) 

Venetia. (Gayly?) 

Thy own Love ? He speaks of love, Franeesca : 
The tardy loit'rer, to whom time is wing'd 
While he stays absent from Venetia's side. 
Love haunts the soul with the ideal presence 
Of the lov'd, and gives the eyes no comfort, 
Save when they rest upon the object lov'd : — 
Why, Love is like two flow' rets on one stem, 
Which bloom and shed their perfume on the air 
But for each-other's happiness and joy. — 
'Tis like two wavelets on a sunny sea, 
Which melt in murm'ring music into one,. 
And leave no witness of their former being. 
Such being Love, thou'rt no true Knight of his 
Or thou hadst been here full an hour ago ! 



26 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Olodio. And so I should, fair Judge, had it not 
chanc'd 
Thy Father stay'd my steps. 

Francesco,. I've hear'cl it said 

An Ocean could not stay impetuous Love, — 
And that he laughs to scorn each barrier strong 
That human means uprear against his will. 
Ply him with that, Venetia. 

Venetia. Nay, I would 
Not set my father's bidding 'gainst my will. 
But surely all the morning was thine own 
To meet my father, if he wish'd thy presence. 

Francesco.. Nay, I will hear no more apology 
From such a recreant in the cause of love; 
So, fare-ye-well. 

(Exit Francesca.) 

Clodio. This, then, is my excuse; — 
I went this morning, when the day just smiled — 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 27 

As smiles an infant, waking from sweet sleep, — 

To the fair gardens of a noble lord 

To gather flowers for their lovely queen. 

The dewy Night had sooth' d the winds to rest, 

And Venice slumber' d on her island couch 

As sleeps some lovely sea-nymph on the waves. 

Far in the eastern sky the smiling Dawn 

Drew Night's dark mantle from her blushing face, 

And mourning Nature dried her falling tears 

To greet the approaching light, her heav'n-born 

Lord. 
While yet I look'd, uprose the lazy Sun 
And from each tree and bow'r struck the gems 
Which Night had scatter d with her lavish hand; 
While to his worship rose the perfumes fresh 
The blue-eyed Morn had brought — and from the 

throats 
Of tiny chorists rose the morning hymn. 
Oh, the whole air was bright with peace and love; 



28 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

And, in the holy stillness of that hour, 
Thou stood' st upon the margin of my soul, 
And all its crystal depths were full of thee 
And mirror' d back thy image. Lost in thought 
And the fair hopes which gem the golden future,. 
I loiter' d heedless, and untiring Time 
On silent pinions wing'd his speedy course : 
But all the while I was with thee, Venetia, 
And my soul spoke to thine in heav'nly chords 
♦Struck by Love's master-hand. 

Venetia. My own dear Lord ! 
'Twas but in idle pleasantry I seem'd 
To doubt thy love, which if I did in truth 
The doubt were death. 'Tis a strange thing, this 

love, 
Which comes upon us like a fairy dream 
And steals us from ourselves, so that we live 
But for another. 

Olodio. Love riots amid flow'rs ! 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 29 

Should winter's icy breathing blast the flow'rs 
Would Love still smile? 

Venetia. Aye, else he were not Love : 
I speak but for myself and the sweet sprite 
Which dwells within my heart and whispers softly 
That thou art all my hope and joy on earth: 
That without thee I die : but, by thy side, 
Thro' the whole world, there is no spot so dark 
Thy presence would not fill with joy and light; 
And should misfortune come — 

Clodio. Aye, think of that; 
Would'st thou still love? 

Venetia. Until my heart should burst 

In guarding thee from ill : then bless the fate 

That let me share it with thee, and then — die ! 

Clodio, I was but yesterday a girl 

From whose young soul had just begun to rise 

The stars that shine and rule o'er woman's fate. 

3* 



30 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

There was a sad vague yearning in my heart 

For something that I knew not, and my life 

Grew weary for this treasure that I sought. 

I knew not what it was : I only knew 

I wish'd for something that I could not find 

To still the restless murmurs of my soul. 

At last thou earnest and straight upleapt my heart 

And from its inmost chambers rose a glass 

Thro' which I saw thee perfect: oh, it seem'cl 

As if the essence of a new-born soul 

Sprang up within me and cast forth a light 

Which bath'd all nature in an amber flood. 

When thou wert near, eyes, ears, each other sense, 

Were center' d all on thee, as 'twere for life ; 

But when away, each thought was bent on thee, 

And still I saw thee ever 'fore my eyes 

^Reflected in the mirror of my soul 

Until thou cam'st to be a part of self — 

And in each air of heav'n I hear'd thy voice 

And saw thy face in nature ev'ry where. 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 31 

Thus the great space within my heart was fill'd, 
And all my life hung trembling on thy will. 

Clodio. Speak on, speak on, sweet Angel, till the air, 
Laden with love, grows fragrant of thy words. 
Oh, there is something in a woman's love 
So pure, so free from all the dross of earth, 
That e'en the thought of being so belov'd 
Is joy ineffable ! I sometimes think 
My love for thee is sinful in its zeal, 
And that some monstrous ill, — I know not what, — 
Will freeze this gush of joy which fills my soul. 

Venclia. Why, what an idle fear ! Has't come to this, 
That thou, whose name is wont to be a spell, 
With which the Turkish mothers awe their babes — 
Whose lance is ever foremost in the lists — 
Whom Venice counts among her stoutest knights — 
Should pine and pale before an unseen ill, 
Like a sick girl who trembles at each thought 
Her fancy conjures up : if it be thus, 



32 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

When we are wed, good sooth, I will assume 

Thy coat of Spanish steel, thy trusty sword, 

And thou shalt be the old wife by the hearth, 

Arm'd with the dread command of household keys. 

How now? 

{Enter ANTONIO.) 

Antonio. Mistress Francesca bade me say, 

Thy Father hath sent hither divers jewels 

That thou mayst choose withal. 

Venetia. I come anon ! 

(Exit Antonio.) 

Come, dearest Clodio, hie thee in with me 

And help me choose these gems. Cast from thy 

mind 

These sad forebodings of imagined ill 

And be thyself once more, — ah, this is well ! 

Thou smilest now as thou art wont to smile. 

Come, come, my wedding jewels, Clodio ! 

(Exeunt) 

END OF ACT I. 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 33 



ACT II. 



Scene I. — On the grand Canal — The Rialto in the 

distance; Time Night. 
A Dagger Sheath lies on the Stage. Enter Clodio 

and an attendant. 

Clodio. Go to Lord Hugo and commend me to him ; 
Tell him from me, if it suits well his leisure, 
I fain would see his lordship in the morn. 

(Attendant Bows and Exit.) 
How stately walks the softly treading Night, 
Like a young maiden, star-eyed, ebon-crown' d : 
With a sweet pity, veiling from the sight 
The batter' d towers whose enseamed breasts 
Are deeply scarr'd with ages past of crime. 
The gentle, quiet Night! I love her well 
As she comes resting on the whisp'ring breeze, 
Lull'd by the chanting of the murm'ring waves, 
Greeting her presence far o'er the Lagune. 
Oh beauteous Night, to-morrow thou wilt come 
To smile on us alone. — 



34 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

(He strikes the Dagger Sheath with his foot.) 
What have we here 
Sparkling so brightly, when all else is dark? 

{He picks up the Sheath.) 
A dagger sheath and jewell'd as the sky 
In southern climes is starr'd. There: rest thou 

there ! 

{Puts the Sheath in his Bosom.) 
A guarantee of fickle Fortune's favor. 
I do remember an Astrologer 
Who told me once in Florence, if I found 
Aught of great value, I should cast it from me, 
As being but a snare of treach'rous fortune. 
So let the gray-beard act — that will not I. 
Why, Fortune hath bestow' d on me Venetia, 
A treasure of such price that all the world — 

Alberto Frangipani, within 
What ho ! Secure the ways, close ev'ry path ! 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 85» 

Stop all who wish, to pass ! Oh, 'tis most foul ! 

{Enter Alberto, a bloody dagger in his hand, 
attended by Guards and Torch-bearers.') 
Clodio. What means this dreadful outcry? 

Alberto. Good my Lord, 

A thing to call down vengeance on all Venice. 
Poor old Giovanni lies on yonder quay, 
Struck to the heart and welt' ring in his blood : — 
I drew this dagger from the wound myself. 

Clodio. Merciful Heav'n ! Arrest Lorenzo D'Arpa ! 

Alberto. The Lord of Arpa! Have you any proofs? 1 
This is a dreadful crime and 'twere not right 
That accusation 'gainst a noble Lord 
Should rest on slight foundation. Have you seen 

{To the Guards.) 
The Lord Lorenzo on your rounds to-night? 

Clodio. Nay, pardon me : 'Twas but a sudden thought— 



36 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Oh, who will give this to Venetia's ears? 

You say, you found him dead? Gave he no sign 

By which to know who did this dreadful deed? 

Alberto. None, none at all ! He lay all cold and dead, 
His white hair dabbled in a pool of blood, — 
His stony eyes fixed on the sky above : 
It is a fearful thing, an old man's blood ! 

(The Guards look at Clodio and whisper.') 

Olodio. Aye, 'tis a fearful thing, for when we see 't 
We think upon our Fathers : age is holy 
And shedding age's blood is sacrilege. 
Why whisper ye, and look upon me thus? 

(To the Guards.') 
If I can help ye in this dreadful coil — 

A Guard. My Lord, my Lord, there's blood upon 
thy vest. 

Alberto. By heav'n 'tis so, — and on his hands too, 
look! 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 37 

Blood scarcely dry! My lord, whence came those 

stains ? 
(Clodio looks at his hands confounded — a ^>««s<?.) 
Speak, speak, my lord; whence comes that fearful 

dye? 
Clodio, (looking at his hands.") 
Oh gracious heav'n, help me in my need ! 
Santa Maria, have the fiends of hell 
The power thus to trap a christian man? 
Indeed, indeed, I know not whence it came: 
'Tis magic, sorc'ry; His the devil's work. 

Alberto. (Gravely.*) 

Aye, that I well believe. 

Clodio. The dagger sheath: — 

It must be that: I found it even now. 

(He takes out the sheath, and, at the same time, 
the parchment falls unobserved.') 
Doubtless 'twas bloody and hath soil'd me thus. 

4 



38 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Alberto, (talcing the sheath.} 

See how the dagger fits it just and true 

And tallies with it e'en in ornament. 

Why, look ye here! Now, by the air I breathe, 

His arms and cypher graven on the hilt. 

Is not this confirmation positive? 

Clodio. 'Tis true it is my dagger: it is mine! 
But I did lend it to the poor old man 
And have not seen it since, until this moment. 

Alberto. It may be so: I trust thou' It prove it so: — 
I am not thine accuser or thy judge 
And hope thou' It make thine innocence appear. 
But, oh my lord, if thou art guilty of 
This damning crime, go bid farewell to hope, 
For nature veils her eyes from such a deed ! 

(Enter Hugo.) 

Hugo. I'm glad to meet thee, Clodio ! There goes out 
A cry about the town — "Giovanni's slain:" 






THE ITALIAN BRIDE. oU 

Hast thou hear'd aught of this ? 

Alberto. 'Tis true, my lord. 

Hugo. And does suspicion point to no arrest ? 

Alberto. Thou' It not believe it; but, there stands the 
man. 

{Points to Clodio.) 
Hugo. What, art thou mad? He would not hurt a 
worm ; 
He murder him, who fathers his betroth'd! 
Go to, this is no subject for a jest! 
Alberto, (showing the dagger.} 
Know'st thou this, my lord ? 

Hugo. Yes : 'tis Clodio's dagger. 

Alberto. It was this dagger then that did the deed: 
I drew it from the gaping wound, myself. 

Hugo. 'Tis not a grain of proof, when brought beside 



40 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

The honor of the man ! 
(Alberto spies the parchment and picks it up.) 
Alberto. Look at his hands, — 
His dress. 

Hugo. Still, still you tell me of no proof: 
I'll pledge my life upon his innocence. 
Clodio, speak out and give this charge the lie: 
Why speak you not? 

Clodio. I am as innocent 
As is the angel who doth call him 'father.' 

Hugo. I know thou art ! He never spoke but truth : 
(To Alberto, who is reading the parchment.} 
If he were guilty, he would bodly say 't, 

Alberto. Here is the cause which hatch' d this fatal 
deed. 
My lord, my lord, could' st thou not wait until 
The feeble arch which spann'd the old man's life 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 41 

Had crumbled into nought? 

(Hugo takes and reads the parchment.) 
Hugo. Oh, shame, shame, shame ! 
Alberto (to Hugo.) 

What moves thee thus, my lord? 

Hugo. (Passionately.) 
I see it all, 

I see it all : and this man was my friend, 
My kinsman! One into whose ear I pour'd 
Each joy that smiled, each woe that frown' d upon 

me: 
Whom I made king o'er friendship's balmy realms 
And in whose love I liv'd. 'Tis a bad world: 
'Tis darker to me now than e'er it was. 
I should as soon have thought that Honor's self 
Could prove a villain, as that Olodio could. 

Olodio. Merciful heaven, Hugo! Thou at least 
Dost not believe me guilty of this crime? 

4* 



42 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Hugo. Peace, peace, oh peace ! Speak not a word 
to me; 
Let me not hear thy voice, else that mine eyes 
May show the woman's feeling in my soul. 
A poor old man ! Oh, 'twas a dastard crime ; 
Wanting the boldness e'en of villany. 

Clodio. I did it not, by heav'n, I did it not. 
Alas, alas; in this, my hour of need, 
I am deserted both by God and man. 
I will not chide thee, but the time may come 
When thou shalt chide thyself — aye, bitterly! 
One boon, one last request, I fain would ask. 
Thou hast a soft, sweet tongue and thou canst 

soothe 
The bitterest anguish into kindly weeping: 
Go thou and to Venetia break this news 
As gently as thou canst : and tell her all ! 
And when she too shall curse me in her grief 
As she perchance may do, tell her my heart 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 43 

Shall answer with a blessing every curse. 
Farewell ! Now, Sir, do with me as thou wilt ! 
{Exeunt all but Hugo, who looks sadly after them.} 

Hugo. My judgment was in conflict with my heart. 
He may be innocent; such things have been 
When circumstance would almost point the way 
To positive persuasion. Can it be? 
No, no, he must be guilty : were he not 
/ never could have doubted him an instant. 
I'm glad he's gone, for when he said 'farewell* — 
Despite of my fix'd judgment and conviction, 
I could have cast my arms about his neck 
And call'd him "brother" still, — now to my task : — 
A sad and woeful messenger of death, 
Who feels the grief he gives, I sadly go 
Charg'd with a double freight of grief and woe. 

(Exit. ) 



44 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Scene II. — A room in Giovanni's house. Enter 
Venetia and Francesca, the latter with a casket 
of jewels. 

Francesca. How sweetly will thy tresses grace these 



Resting amid their wavy folds of gold. 

But still I think thou should'st have ta'en the 

pearl : — 
They do become a bride's appearance well. 

Venetia. And so I should, but Clodio bade me take 
The diamonds. 

Francesca. Yes, and said some stupid thing 
About their being dull beside thine eyes. — 
Well, diamonds will become a countess' state, 
And thou wilt act it well ! I must no more 
Call thee " Venetia/' but must frame my lips 
To say "my lady" and "your ladyship." 
'T will be no more "Mistress Venetia comes," 
But "clear the way, there, for her ladyship." 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 45 

Thou' It act it passing well. — I would some lord 

Would please to take a fancy to my face. 

Tell me, sweet coz, how didst thou win thy lord? 

Venetia. Nay, tell thee, rather, how my lord won 
me ! 
Thou know' st the villa, that my father owns 
By our sweet Arno? Thither Clodio came 
When all the State was telling o'er and o'er 
His gallantry and valor 'gainst the Turk. 
He'd known my father from his boyhood's days, 
And there he came to seek the hue of health 
That many a wound had driven from his cheeks. 

Francesca. I see it all : and thou wert made his 
nurse : 
A dang'rous post ! 

Venetia. I was prepared to sec 
A rough, stern warrior, with forbidding brow 
And with an iron frame; but when I saw 



46 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

His slender figure and his youthful, face, 
His manner shy as any timid girl's, 
The modesty which redden' d in his cheeks 
If any prais'cl the deeds which he had done, 
I could not think that his had been the sword 
Which struck so fiercely thro' the Turkish ranks. 
A month pass'd by and then with many sighs 
He spoke of his departure : still he stay'd 
And, speaking still of going, did not go. 
Sometimes we walk'd amid the long arcades 
Of clustering myrtles, in the purple shade 
Of a bright golden sun-set, and he spoke 
Of the strange sights he'd seen in other climes : 
And I did like it best, whene'er he spoke 
Most of himself. And then again at night 
When the fair moon smil'd calmly on herself 
Mirror' d in Arno's bosom, we would glide 
In a gay shallop, and the neighb'ring groves 
Would sing an answer to the murmur' d songs 
That our two voices gave ! 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 47 

Francesco,. In truth, a scene 
Where Love delights to dwell. 



r 



Venetia. Well, time pass'd by, 
And sometimes I could feel that Clodio's eyes 
Were gazing on my face, and all my soul 
Shrank trembling from the watching of his love. 
At last, one day we sat upon a bank 
Where the spring flow'rs were wrestling with the 

grass 
To catch a glimpse of heav'n. About us trees 
Entwin'd their arms around each others' forms, 
A shady arch — an armor of fair green — 
Thro' which the sun by many a jagged rent 
Struck his bright spear: a softly warbling brook 
Went singing love-songs to its green-clad banks, 
And the spring-breeze, awak'd at last from sleep, 
Came stealing softly from his southern grot, 
Laden with sweets. — 

(Enter Antonio.) 



48 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Antonio. Madam, lord Hugo waits 

And earnestly beseeches you to see him. 

Venetia. Lord Hugo waits ! Keep you lord Clodio's 
friend 
Dancing attendance in the outer court 
As if he were a tradesman's errand hoy? 
Go, sirrah; thou shouldst know thy duty better. 

(Exit Antonio.) 
We'll speak of this, Francesca, more anon, 
And I shall show thee how this germ of love 
Grew to a stately tree, whose ev'ry leaf 
Blaz'd in the sun-light of our happiness. 

(Enter HUGO.) 
Good eve, my lord : it is a happy chance 
Which brings the noble Hugo to our roof. 
I grieve my father is not here to make 
His proper duty to your lordship's presence. 

Hugo. Lady — I come — 

(He hesitates with emotion.) 
Oh, cruel, cruel chance! 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 49 

Venetia. How now, my lord ; what is it moves thee 
thus?— 

I fear me thou art ill : — Francesca, quick — 

Send quickly for the leech. 
Hugo. Thou'dst send in vain : 

No leech can cure the tidings that I bring 

Save one who could recall a parted life. 

Venetia. Merciful heav'n, what means this, my lord ? 
Thou fram'st thy speech in such a mystic way 
As thou wouldst have us guess some riddle dark, 
Which, it guess'd right, would crush us to the earth. .. 
A parted life ! Oh, noble Hugo, speak ! 
Uncertainty invests with tenfold dread 
The utmost terrors of the startled mind. 

Hugo. Lady, all men are mortal and death sits 
With little triumph on the head, which age. 
Hath consecrated with a life-time's honor.. 

Venetia, (sinking into a chair.} 
Alas, my father's dead ! 5 



50 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Francesca, (supporting her and looking at Hugo.) 
Can this be true ? 

Yes, yes, there's confirmation in his face ! 
My lord, my lord, thou should' st have couch' d thy 

words 
In darker meaning, till her frighten' d mind 
Was roused to meet this dread calamity. 

Venetia, (recovering.') 
It is a jest, — a cruel, heartless jest ! 
If it were true, thou wouldst not bring these news, 
But he whose love would soothe away my sorrow : 
No one could forestall Clodio in his love. 

Hugo. Lady, alas — Clodio — 

Venetia. He is not dead ! 
Oh, if thou wouldst not see me lie a corpse 
Or breaking into madness, spare me this. 

Hugo. I left him even now in health, but oh — 
Venetia. Why so then all is well, and all this tale 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 51 

Was but a silly jest to frighten us. 
Fie, fie, my lord : 'tis but a sorry sport 
To trifle with a feeble woman's love. 

Hugo. I would it were a jest ; but my own eyes 
Bore weeping witness to the dreadful sight: 
It is a bloody murder. 

Venetia. Murder ! who ? 
Thou canst not mean my father, for he might 
Challenge the world to find a cause for hate 
And triumph in no answer to his challenge. 
Thou keepest me in torture ! where is Clodio ? 

Hugo j (sorrowfully.^) 

Lord Clodio is in bonds. 

Venetia, (fiercely.*) 
In bonds ? In bonds ? 
Who dares to chain a free Venetian noble ? 
In bonds ! For what ? Thou tell'st me first, my lord, 
My father's dead, and now this monstrous tale, 



52 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

That he, whose name reddens the city's cheek 
With mantling pride, gives his free limbs to chains ! 
In bonds, for what? 

Hugo. Charg'd with the murder of 

Venetia, (laughing hysterically.) 
So now the mock'ry's ended: 'tis complete! 
My Clodio charg'd with murder : oh, 'tis rare. 
Confess, my lord, that all this is a jest. 

Hugo. Alas, 'tis true, — all true. 

Venetia. Tlwu tell'st me this ! 
Thou who wert wont to call my Clodio friend, 
Didst thou stand by and see him led to prison 
And didst not lift thy hand in his defence'/ 
Oh friendship, what a mockery art thou! 

Hugo. What should I do? 

Venetia. Fie, fie; what should'st thou do? 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 53 

Summon thy vassals, — raise thy spotless banner,—- 

Cry 'Corelli to the rescue' — and set on. 

If thou hadst lov'd thy friend thou hadst not ask'd. 

Hugo. Defy Saint Mark ! why this is utter madness. 
Besides, e'en if I wish'd, the proofs of guilt — 

Venetia. The proofs are what ? Thou dost not think 
him guilty. 
My lord, thou dar'st not ! Call thyself his friend 
And doubt his faith ! Hugo, I am at best 
But a frail woman : but were I a man 
Who had a friend and such a friend as he, — 
Did an archangel come down from the skies, 
Radiant with glory, hand in hand with truth, 
And call'd him murd'rer, — I should think, my lord, 
A demon had usurp' d the heav'nly form 
And would have answer' d — "liar !" 

Francesco.. Patience, sweet cousin ! 

Thou wrong' st lord Hugo: on my life, thou dost. 

5* 



54 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Venetia. Wert thou in Clodio's place and he in thine 
And any man had doubted Hugo's fame, 
vClodio had found no answer save his sword 
^To write the slander on the liar's crest. 
Oh, my good lord, I should as soon have thought 
Dishonor could attack thy spotless name, 
As that thou couldst have credited this tale. 
Who will be true to him, when thou art false? 

{She weeps, .) 

Hugo. No, lady, no : not false : that is a word 
WTiich never yet has stained Corelli's name : 
Did I but think— 

Venetia. Oh, Sir: I cry you mercy! 
We, who are lowly born, are wont to think 
'That constancy fits well a noble nature : 
We know not thy patrician etiquette; 
And it may hap that ye do think it right 
To turn against your friends, when others do. 

Hugo. By heav'n, you do me wrong ! I'd love him yet 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 55 

As ever I did love, ere this foul charge 

Came like a plague to palsy and to kill 

His fair nobility; oh, I would give 

The proudest honors of the name I boast, 

If I could dare the whole assembled world 

To prove his guilt, and triumph in the thought 

It was impossible. 

Venetia. I say thou canst ! 
Hast thou so little faith ? — 

(J. noise of weeping, d-c, heard icithin.) 
Ah me — those sounds ! 
My father, my dear father I 

(She sobs.) 
Oh, my lord, 

Have pity on a woman, craz'd with grief, 
And help her in this dread extremity. 

(She kneels to Hugo.) 
My father lies a corpse and Clodio charg'd — 
Oh heaven, grant me strength ! 



56 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Hugo, (raising her.) 
Rise, lady, rise ! 
Whatever I can do to save my friend — 

Venetia. Friend ! Hear, Francesca ; he doth call him 
friend. 
Oh bless thee for that word: I knew, I knew 
Thy noble nature would assert its own. 

{Enter Antonio, hurriedly and weeping.) 

Antonio. Oh, my sweet lady, they have brought — 

Venetia. Oh, heav'n ! 

{She iceeps bitterly.') 
Back, foolish tears ! I have no time for tears : 
Why weep for him, who in his maker's care 
Reaps the blest harvest of a guileless life ? 
Go, bid the household cease its lamentation. 

{To Antonio.) 
It is not decent that a good man's bier 
Should thus be plagued. Come, cousin, let us go; 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 57 

The dead awaits our care. (Going.) 

Thou wilt not fail? 

(To Hugo.) 

Hugo. If heav'n lend its aid, 1 will not, lady! 

Venetia. God ; in his mercy, help thee in thy work. 
{Exeunt Venetia and Francesca.) 

Hugo. Such is the love of woman ! In her heart 
She sets the object of her worship up, 
As men do place an Idol in a shrine! 
On its sweet altar doth she sacrifice 
All selfishness and ev'ry baser thought; 
And be the image hideous as the shapes 
Of swarthy India's faith, to her it seems 
The symbol of all beautiful and good. 
With what a fine contempt and noble scorn 
She forc'd me back to my allegiance ! 
Her very form dilated with the strength 
With which she urged her lover's innocence. 



58 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

By heav'n, it surely cannot be that one 

Whose soul is grae'd with such a woman's love, 

Could e'er be guilty of so base a crime. 

I'll not believe it, and I hold it wrong 

That I did e'er mistrust his noble nature. 

He must be sav'd ! But how ? 

(He pauses in meditation^) 
Come hither, boy ! 
Dost love thy lady? 

Antonio. Truly yes, my lord. 

Hugo. And the lord Clodio ? Dry thine idle tears : 
Thy master needs them not; and if he did, 
Thou couldst not save him by an age of weeping! 
It is the living who do claim our care. 
Thou lov'st thy mistress and lord Clodio is — 
In peril of his life : if he should die 
Thy lady would attend him e'en in death 
As she would ne'er forsake him in this life. 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 59 

Antonio. I will do all I can, my lord, to save him ! 

Hugo. Why, well said, boy! First, hasten with all 
speed 
To old lord Dandolo — thou know'st him well- 
Then to Pescara and to Contarini. 
They have avow'd themselves to me long since 
Friendly to Clodio : tell them, by their leave 
I fain would see them ere the senate meets. 
To him of Arpa, — no, no, not to him : 
Thou must say nought to him, but on his steps 
Hang like a sleuth-hound, watch him ev'ry where: 
Attend him as his shadow: let thy ears 
Catch up each word that 'scapes his careless lip : 
He loves not our Clodio, and 'twere well 
To set a guard 'gainst his hostility. 
Away, away ! There's death in ev'ry moment. 

(Antonio going.') 
Stay ! As thou go'st along observe the people 
And listen to their converse on this matter : 



60 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Now go, and God be with thee! 

(Exit Antonio.) 
As for me, 

Tho' ev'ry lip in Venice curl with scorn, 
I shall redeem my word ! See, here she comes 
In all the awful majesty of woe. 
(He retires up the stage.) 

(Enter Venetia hurriedly.) 
Venetia. Have I forgotten all a daughter's love, 
That even while I gaz'd upon his form 
And saw that fearful wound, my tears tum'd back 
And ev'ry thought was Clodio's? While I view'd 
The tranquil horror of the face I lov'd, 
The dreadful thought rose shud'ring thro' my soul — 
E'en so will (Jlodio look : the eyes, which beam'd 
With love's own fires to meet the glance thine gave, 
Will thus grow dull in death : — the lips, which 

smil'd 
With heav'n's own affection, shall be stone 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 61 

And smile on thee no longer: — the sweet voice, 
Which tnrn'd thy soul to rapture, shall be mute, 
E'en tho' thou call it with a thousand kisses. 
I shall go mad if I but think on half 
Of what my fears suggest ! Oh, gracious hcav'n, 
Grant me the strength to think, to plan, to act;— 
liaise me up friends in this extremity: — ■ 
Soften the hearts of those who judge his fate 
And let thy mercy, heav'nly father, fall 
Upon their souls! Let me but save his life, 
And I shall be content with any fate ! 

END OF ACT J I. 



T H E ITALIAN IS R I D E. 



ACT III. 

Scene I. — The Senate Chamber of Venice. Dandolo, 
Pescara, Lorenzo. 

Lorenzo. I do assure you, I was thunderstruck 

And did deny it: — for of all the lords, 

Who grace the head of Venice, I did think 

He was the noblest. 

Dandolo. Marry, so did I. 

Lorenzo. And, when they told it me, I struck the 
knave, 
Who, as I thought, did thus malign the fame 
Of a brave soldier. 

Dandolo. A brave soldier, true ! 

Peseara. 'Tis said Giovanni made his will and gave 
That very morning, all his wealth to Clodio. 

Lorenzo. Aye, there s the damning fact ! This heavier 
weighs 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 63 

Than all the rest. He may have lost his dagger, 
But here's a motive ! 

Dandolo. Yes, here's a motive. 

Lorenzo, {aside to Pescara.) 

Echo doth lodge within this dotard's throat, (aloud.') 
But e'en without the motive there is proof 
Enough to damn a man; the more the pity. 

Dandolo (sighing.) 

Aye, the more the pity. 

Pescara. I always thought 

There was a savage scowl upon his face 
Which augur'd murder! What said lord Hugo 
Of this grave accusation 'gainst his friend ? 

Lorenzo. He scarcely would believe in Clodio's guilt. — - 
They were too friendly for lord Hugo's fame : 
Shrewd men will hardly think that Hugo knew 
Nought of the murd'rous plan. They were too 
friendly ! 



64 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Dandolo. Aye, so think I! 

Pescara. He sent his man to me 
To meet him early. 

Dandolo. So he did to me ! 

Lorenzo. So did he not to me : he loves me not. 

Pescarc. I did not grant his bidding. 

Dandolo. Nor did I. 

(Enter Hugo U7isee7i from behind.) 
Lorenzo. He wish'd, my lords, to sound ye and to use 
His wondrous power in his friend's behalf. 

Feicara. I ne'er c(uld see what Hugo found in him 
To love him thus ! 

Dandolo. Nor, in ^ood sooth, c?>uld I. 

Lorenzo. He was at al| times but a surly churl. 

Pescara. I never cou-d abide him ! 



THE ITALIAN URIDE. 65 

Dandolo. Nor could I. 
Hujo (ad van ring, ) 

He had at least, my lords, one quality 

Which ye knew not : 'twas this : — he ever ssorn'd 

To utter that in secret which his sword 

Dar'd not maintain at ev'ry time and place. 

Ye three could ne'er abide him? That is true: 

Whene'er, my lords, ye call'd him to the field 

Ye never could abide him! 'Tis not new 

This rare discovery that ye have made: 

Ye three could ne'er abide him ! Neither can 

The loathsome fogs, which taint the presence of 

The earth, abide the rising of the sun. 

Dandolo. 'Tis very true. 

Hugo. He was a gentleman ! 

The proudest title man can give to man. 
To those of higher state, his conduct was 
Respectful, firm and proud ! To those who own'd 

6* 



66 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

The privilege to call him friend, he was 

Devoted, kind and true ! To other men 

Inferior in station he did act 

As tho' his birth was merely accident 

And honor made all equal: and to women 

He held a higk-ton'cl courtesy of thought 

Which made him prompt to interpose his sword 

To shield from insult all the sex alike, 

The duchess or the poorest tradesman's daughter. 

Gentle to all, subservient to none ! 

As brave as Mars, yet still as sensitive 

Never to wound the feelings of another: 

As kind, as true, as loyal and as bold 

As any he, who ever trod the earth. 

No time-worn dotard, signor Dandolo ! 

No ruffling gamester, worthy lord Lorenzo ! 

No scandal-monger, marquis of Pescara! 

He was a gentleman ! D'ye take me sirs? 

{lie lays his hand significantly en his sicord.") 
Lorenzo, {sneeringly .) 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 67 

And yet this worthy gentleman, thy friend, 
Did not conceive it 'neath his dignity 
To murder foully a poor, weak old man. 
Ha, ha ! Here is a puzzle, good my lords. 
Hugo (in ipetuously . ) 

Thou liest in thy teeth; as black a lie 
As ever came from hell ! Nay, by Saint Mark, 
My sword shall cram the falsehood down thy throat. 
{They loth draw and then a flourish of trumpets.} 

Dandolo. Peace, peace ! Here conies the Doge : it 
will not pass 

To be thus brawling in the senate-chamber. 

For God's sake, gentlemen, put up your swords; — 

Here comes the Doge ! 
Lorenzo, (sheathing his sword.) 

I'll bide my time, my lord! 
Hugo, (sheathing. j 

'Twill not come sooner than I wish it, Sir! 



UO THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Dandolo. For heav'n's sake, peace ! 

(Enter Doge and Senators, attended.) 
God save your noble highness. 

{The Doge ascends the throne — the lords arrange 
themselves around. 

Doge. We thank thee, good Dandolo, for thy wishes : — 
In truth, the times are such, thy pious pray'r 
Is not amiss. Good morrow, to your lordships! 
Ah, noble Hugo, on thy brow, we read 
The melancholy tidings of the night. 
Our trusty Frangipani told us, Sirs, 
That old Giovanni, whom the State held high 
In its esteem for many favors render' d, 
E'en while returning from our ducal palace 
Hath been most foully murder' d : more he said 
Of such a dark and most unnat'ral hue 
That I did judge it best, most noble lords, 
To hear no more until the senate met : — 
For, circumstance points darkly unto one 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 6$ 

For whoso bright honor we'd have gag'd our own ; 
His name as high as any Venice boasts : — > 
The State's best soldier, — noble Clodio! 

Hugo. I do implore your grace to let no word 
Of idle rumor prejudice my friend 
In your opinion. 

Doge. It shall not, my lord : 

Be sure we shall hear all the evidence 

And judge with justice: nor shall we, indeed, 

Be mindless of the services thy friend 

Hath render' d Venice. But these constant murders 

Have dyed with shame the fair face of our city : 

And be the bravo noble as ourself, 

Nay, were he my own son, who foully took 

This unoffending old man's life, be sure 

He answers for it to th' offended law. 

Lorenzo. I do beseech your grace to take in view 
The well known virtues of lord Clodio, 



70 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Which in time past have ever shone abroad, 
As the bright light which men do set on high 
To guide the wand'rer safe. 
Hugo, (aside.} 
Oh, hypocrite ! 

Doge. We shall not be unmindful of this, too! 
The love we bear to Clodio, oursclf, 
Doth well dispose us to heed ev'rything 
Which can in any measure favor him. 
Bring in the prisoner. 

(Enter Clodio, with Frngipani and Guards.) 
Clodio Renaldi, 

Of a most dreadful crime thcu art arraign'd; — 
In this, that thou with rash and vi'lent hand 
Didst tear away an old man's failing breath; 
One, who did not offend thee and whose life 
Was dear unto the State : how sayst thou, Sir ? 
Art guilty of this crime or innocent ? 



T Fl E I T A I, I A N B RI I> E. 71 

Clodio. Most innocent yet most unfortunate, 
Great duke, in this that cv'ry current fact 
Goes far to prove me guilty. 

Doge. Thus it is 

That we have hear'd : yet do not doubt this thing — 

Thy trial shall be fair and not prejuclg'd. 

We fain would think thee guitless of this act, 

Both for the love we ever felt for thee 

And for the service thou hast done the State, 

Which, like a jewel in a monarch's crown, 

Shines brightly in the chaplet Venice weave* 

Of her sons' noble deeds in chivalry; 

A diadem more rich than ever yet 

Adorn'd the brow of scepter' d royalty. 

No more of that : we come to judge, not praise. 

Good Frangipani, speak thy evidence. 

Alberto. So please your noble grace, while yestcr eve 
1 took my 'custom'd round upon the quay — 



72 THE ITALIAN li K I D IV. 

Hard by the palace found I old Giovanni, 
Still warm, but dead, — this dagger in his heart, 

(He gives the dagger to the Doge.) 
I was so stunn'd to see this cruel deed 
'Gainst one so unoffending unto all, 
J stood aghast, — -'till, rallying my strength, 
I shouted the alarm and gave command 
To close up all the ways and let none pass. 
Hard by the spot we found lord Clodio, 
And all his clothes and hands were stain' d with blood: 
Within his bosom lurk'd this jewell'd sheath 

(He gives the sheath to the Doge.) 
Fitting the fatal dagger just and true : 
Yourself, my lord, may see upon the hilt 
Keualdi's arms and cypher ! 
Doge, (looking at the dagger.') 
Aye, 'tis so ! 
What said the prisoner ? 

Alberto. He stood aghast, 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. \ 

And seem'd confounded in his guilt, my lord ; 
I question'd him, but he no answer made 
Save wild and incoherent exclamations. 

Lorenzo. Oh, this is horrible! 

Alberto. We also found, 

Most noble Doge, this parchment on his person. 
(lie gives the Doge the parchment.) 
Doge, (examining it.) 

It is the old man's will and this foul deed 

Arose from this. It is most horrible! 

Clodio Kenaldi, what hast thou to say? 

Clodio. Nothing that I could say, most noble Doge, 
Could now avail to intermit the doom 
Impending o'er me :— yet I deem it right, 
Not craven-like to bow me to despair, 
But manfully and with a constant soul 
To bend all efforts to preserve my life : 
Not that I tremble at the view of death, 



74 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Whom — (think not that I boast) — I've often met 

Upon the field of war, and hurl'd him back 

Upon the serried columns of the foe : 

But that the honor of my house and name, 

(Which ye do threaten in my cause of death) 

Demands my argument: and that one Being — 

But, by your leave, we will not speak of that, 

Lest that my swelling heart perchance may feign 

The fear I feel not ! Now, as to this charge, 

It is most false ! Yet ev'ry word, my lords, 

That Frangipani here hath spoke is true. 

The dagger to Giovanni I did lend, 

With what intent it boots not now to say. 

Ou yester-even as I walked along 

I saw the glitter of a jewell'd sheath, 

Spark'ling upon the dusky brow of night 

And seized the tempting prize : — close to my heart 

I held the deadly snare which fortune sent 

And thank' d the treacherous jade : then follow' d all 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 75 

As ye have hear'd ! This is the truth, my lords. 
As to Giovanni, could my heart's best blood 
Restore him back to life, there is a cause 
Would make each drop, which lingers near its core, 
Leap madly to be free ! 

JLoren-zo. This may be true : — 
But then — the will! 

Doge. We fain would think it true, 

Yet cannot so believe it: hast thou then 
No other proof, except this bare assertion? 

Clodio. None, gracious Doge; save this, that in time 
past 
Truth and myself have ever been at peace! 

Lorenzo. I do beseech your highness not to pass 
Judgment in haste, else — 

Hugo. Peace, dissembler, peace ! 

I love not this lip-service, which doth kill 



70 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

With poison' d honey. ; Tis in vain, my lords, 
To blazen Clodio's deeds in his behalf, 
Else could I make so noble a defence 
Merely with acts that I myself have seen 
Clodio achieve within the lists of war, 
That e'en the marble statues of your hall 
Would burst into applause. But His in vain! 
Tho' he could boast the virtues of Saint Mark 
Ye would not 'bate his doom. One way remains, 
Sanction'd, my lords, by holy church herself! 
If it doth please your grace, by virtue of 
Time honor'd custom to ordain in this 
Ordeal by battle, — lo, here stand I, 
Hugo Corelli, a good knight and true, 
Heady with lance, with battle-axe or sword, 
To make my quarrel good, and prove the lie 
On him who questions Clodio's innocence. 
There lies my gage and God defend the light. 

(He tltroics dozen his gauntlet.) 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 77 

Clodio. Thanks, Hugo, thanks for this! My heart 
leaps up 
Once more at thy devotion : but, my friend, 
If it doth please his grace to grant us this, 
No one but Clodio must prove Clodio's honor. 

Lorenzo, {advancing towards the glove.) 

I pray, your grace, let me take up the glove. 

Doge. It cannot be; we doubt not, lord Lorenzo, 
Thy ardor in the service of the state : 
But in this matter we forbid the trial. 
Captain Alberto, take thou up the glove 
And keep it in the name of good Saint Mark. 

Hugo. Then all is lost! 

{Enter an attendant.) 
Attendant. May 't please your gracious highness, 
A lady waits without, beseeching entrance: 
She boasts she knows who took Giovanni's life 
And wishes to bear witness on this point. 

7* 



78 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 



Doge. What is her name ? 



Attendant. I know not, good my liege, 

Nor would she say, when ask'd; but with a wild 
And hasty importunity she press' d 
Instant admission ! 

JJoge. This is very strange. 
Lorenzo, (disturbed.} 
Trust it not, my lord. 

Doge. Give her admission. 

.{Exit attendant, and then enter Venetia in deep 
mourning: she casts off her veil, looks hurriedly 
around and springs into Clodio's arms.) 

Venetia. Oh, Clodio, Clodio, hath it come to this? 

Clodio, (embracing her.) 
Heaven, I thank thee, for this boon at least ! 
My own Venetia, thou hast shed a light 
Along my darken* d path : I thought, my love, 
That thou too, like the rest, would' st deem me guilty. 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 79 

Venetia, (reproachfully^) 
I think thee guilty ! Shame to thee, Clodio ! 

Clodio. Nay, pardon me the thought: I did thee 
wrong 
To class thee with a base and heartless world : 
But in the fatal chance — 

Venetia. Hush, Clodio, hush ! 
I conjure thee by the sweet love thou bear'st me 
Speak not of that, 

Lorenzo. 'Tis old Giovanni's daughter. 

Doge. Why, look ye, how she hangs upon his breast, 
As tho' she found a comfort in the source 
Whence sprang her misery! This is not well. 
Maiden, why dost thou thus caress the man 
Thou hast most cause to hate ? 

Venetia. Most cause to hate? 
Ah me, I had forgot; — this frightful charge : 



80 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Would' st know, my lord, why I thus turn to him? 
Why does the ship-wreck' d wretch, who struggles 

'midst 
The angry breakers, grasp a shatter' d spar 
And cling to it with such a frantic hold 
That even death itself cannot dissolve it? 

Doge. It is a foolish question: he who drowns 
Grasps at aught near him. 

Venetia. Aye, and so do I! 
Struggling amid misfortune's angry waves — 
A drowning wretch — I stretch my eager hand 
To grasp at safety. Ye would tear it from me. 

Doge. But this man — 

Venetia. Is my betroth' d, my lord ! 

Was to have been my husband ere to-morrow: 
And tho' my lips no vows have breath' d on earth, 
One from my heart is register'd in heav'n, 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 81 

Which I'll be sure to keep — aye, sure to keep. 

Dandolo. Thou would'st not wed with him who slew 
thy father? 

Venetia. Thou gray-headed slanderer, 'tis a lie ! 
Shame to thee, old man ! My Clodio murder? 
Ye think not thus, my lords : deem ye that I 
Who lov'd my father with a love that came 
Near to idolatry could brook the sight 
Of him who slew him ? There is no guilt here ! 

(She embraces Clodio.) 

Doge. We would it were so, lady, but the proof 
Bears home conviction. 

Venetia. Proof! what is this proof? 
Clodio, they'd murder thee and call it justice. 
My lords, my lords, some demon hath raised up 
False circumstance to steal away your minds 
And lead ye to destruction : oh, beware ! 
'Tis peril to your souls to slay a man 
Guiltless of crime. 



82 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Doge. Alas, we pity thee. 

Venetia. Then spare him for that pity, noble Doge: 
Check not the blessed current which doth flow 
From mercy's threshold, and an orphan's pray'rs 
Shall weary heaven for thy happiness. 
Oh, thou wilt grant my pray'r; I know thou wilt! 

Doge. It cannot be. Justice must take its course. 

Venetia, (wildly.') 

Is there no hope? Will no one plead for me? 

Has heav'n no means to shield the innocent? 

Ah, see ! my father's shrouded form appears 

Crown' d with the awful majesty of death: 

(She gazes and points on vacancy.') 

The dead hath come among ye here, my lords, 

To bear high witness to his innocence. 
Lorenzo , (starting up anxiously.) 

Saint Mark protect me! Where? 
Venetia, (advancing and still pointing.) 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 83 

Why, there it goes : 

See'st thou it not? 'Tis gone. 



{A pause.*) 



Doge. Alas, poor maid; 

Her mind's distraught with grief! 



Venetia. No, no, not so! 
My mind is not distraught, most noble Doge. 
Think ye, my lords, it is a thing so strange 
That e'en the sheeted dead should burst asunder 
Their silent habitations and come forth 
In haste to interpose their awful forms 
Between ye and the dread impiety 
Ye contemplate to practice ? Such a deed 
Will bring down heaven's vengeance upon Venice! 
Your marble palaces shall be the haunts 
Of owls and bats and other hideous things 
Which gloat upon decay: your tow' ring walls 
Shall crumble into dust: and Venice self, 
Tho' haughty in her pow'r, she mocks at crime,. 



84 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Shall be the by-word of her sister nations. 
Oh, such a crime as ye do contemplate 
Shall not go unaveng'd of heav'n, my lords. 

Doge. Enough of this! We have borne much with 
thee 
Thro' pity of thy sorrow, and the love 
We owe thy father's memory: but now 
Thy speech doth pass all bounds of due respect. 
But for the service that thy honor' d sire — 

Venetia, (with great excitement.') 
Ah, speak you now of service? Show me him 
Who can contend with Clodio in the debt 
Of gratitude that Venice owes her sons. 
E'en you, yourself, my lord, hast thou forgot 
How when the infidels did hem thee round 
And ev'ry sword was thirsting for thy blood, — 
Whose arm came sweeping to the rescue then? 
Whose battle-cry did nerve thy heart with hope? 
Who snatch' d thee from a thousand angry foes 
And sent thee back to life? 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 85 

Doge. 'Twas Clodio ! 

Venetia, (triumphantly.') 
Aye, 'twas my Clodio! ; Twas his own brave heart 
That rescued Venice : think you, good my lord, 
The soul that did that deed could ever stoop 
To secret murder? ; Tis impossible. 

Dodge, (much moved.) 

Alas, I would have thought so : I would give 

Half of my life if I could save him now. 

But, were he my own son, I could not help him. 

Venetia. Thou canst not while thy memory is fresh, 

How he did peril life to save thine own, 

Condemn him now. Oh, give a little time : 

A month — a week — a day : something may hap 

To prove his innocence. I have great wealth, 

And Venice I am told hath need of it : 

What is one life to Venice ? Take it all 

And let him live, e'en tho' it be but for 

Another day ! 

8 



86 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Doge. Venice sells not her justice. 
Clodio Renaldi, listen to our sentence. 

Clodio. Take her hence, Hugo ! take her quickly 
hence. 
She will go mad or die, if she hears this; 
Oh ; take her hence! 

Venetia. No, no, I will not go; 
Sweet Clodio, let me stay : I wish to hear 
What noble bounty Venice gives her sons 
"Who have risk'd life and all in her defence. 
Indeed I shall not stir nor say one word, 
Nay, not a single one. Speak on, my lord. 

Doge. Our sentence is, that for this heinous crime 
We give thee to the wheel : to-morrow morn 
At sun-rise thou must die, and may thy God 
Grant to thy sinful spirit that sweet mercy 
Which human justice may not here bestow. 
Venetia, (tottering forwards.') 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 87 

Oh, no, no ! Not to-morrow morn, great Duke ! 

Oh mercy, mercy, lie is innocent : 

Most innocent, my lords, — oh mercy, mercy ! 

{/She falls insensible on the steps of the throne, LORENZO 

advances to raise her.*) 

Hugo, (springing forwards.*) 

Back, back; touch her with thy licentious hand 
And tho' thou stood' st before a thousand Dukes, 
By heav'n, thou Mst answer for it with thy life — 
Aye, tho' my own should be the penalty. 

{He raises her, and exeunt Doge, Dandolo, Pescara 

and attendants.") 

Lorenzo (to Hugo.) 

A day of reckoning will come, my lord. 

Hugo. Whene'er thou wilt: now leave me, mountebank. 
{Exit Lorenzo: Hugo places Venetia in Clodio's 

arms who regards her sadly.) 
Clodio. Farewell, farewell ! She feels no sorrow now. 
Oh, Hugo, better she should never wake 



88 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Than wake to feel the bitterness of grief 
That must be hers : why was I ever born 
To bring down sorrow on so fair a head? 
Farewell, sweet angel! 'Tis not death which fills 
My soul with terror, but it is the pang 
Of being torn from thee. See, she revives : 
Oh Hugo, in the night which closes round 
Her spirit's light, be thou the guide to tend 
Her wand' ring footsteps, and be sure of this : — 
If gentle Heav'n grant the loving soul 
To linger near the forms most dear on earth, 
I will be by thee, watching o'er her welfare. 
I must not stay till she returns to sense; 
One kiss ! 

(Kisses her with great emotion and gives her bach to 

Hugo.) 
And now, indeed, farewell for ever. 

{Exeunt Clopio and Frangipani.) 

Hugo. I'll see thee yet again ! Ah, she revives. 
God help her in her anguish. 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. <59 

Venetia. (Recovering.} 
Innocent, — 

He's innocent, my lords, condemn him not. 
Ha, gone? all gone? — and Clodio doom'd to death? 
Oh, what a wretch was I to swoon away 
When Clodio's life was trembling in the scale ! 
The wheel, the wheel ! — Hugo, is there no hope ? 

Hugo. I did all man could do : alas, in vain. 

Venetia. But more must still be done: Away, away ! 
Each moment, as» it flies, grows dark with death : 
I tell thee Hugo, that a thousand years 
Are center' d in each minute : I must away. 

Hugo. But whither would'st thou go ? 

Venetia. Unto the Doge ! 
What argument to use, I know not yet: 
Perhaps nought else but beg and pray and weep : — 
Do anything but loiter idly here 



90 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

And fret myself to madness ! Let us go : 
Heaven will give me strength. 

{Exit Venetia followed by Hugo.) 

END OF ACT III. 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 91 

ACT IV. 

Scene i. — A Dungeon.— Clodio and a Friar. 

Clodio. The worst is past : the dreadful agony 
Of hope awaken' d, lost, sustain' d again : 
For then my soul was tortur'd with the doubt 
Of what might be, while now the certain future 
Stands out in bold relief, and my nerv'd heart 
Is strong to meet my doom ! Speak'st thou of justice '( 
What is my sio that I am doom'd to writhe, 
Tortured before the foul and hooting mob, — 
My free-born limbs the undisputed spoil 
Of the detested executioner ? 
It may be pow'r, but do not speak of justice. 

Friar. My son, my son, I grieve to see thy mind 
Revolting thus 'gainst Heaven's high decree. 
Misfortune is our birth-right and 'tis well — 
For 'tis indeed the med'cine of the soul : 



^92 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Man's life is but a trial and his ills 

Are the most potent acids which may test 

The golden pureness of his deathless soul. 

Clodio. It is a soothing doctrine, but my mind 
Is not prepar'd, good father, to receive it. 
My sense of wrong — my honor' d name debas'd — 
My life's whole labor, melted in a breath — 
The fairest future ever dawn'd on man — 
All gone, all blasted — wither' d in an hour. 

{Enter Venetia hurriedly.') 
TJwu here, Venetia! Good father, leave us. 

Friar. Peace be with thee, son. 

{Exit Friar.) 

Clodio. {Embracing her.) 
Oh, my Venetia, 

Thou shinest in the darkness of this cell 
Like a bright meteor in a stormy sky, 
Which flashes o'er the troubled ocean's breast 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 93 

And leaves the frighten'd mariner to grope 
His way thro' thicker darkness when 'tis gone. 

Venetia. Is there no ear to pry into our counsel ? — 
No lurking spy? Clodio, are we alone? 

Clodio. Aye, all alone; except with Misery, 
Who will not leave me, love, until I stand 
Before the gate of heav'n, if heav'n can be 
Where thou art not. 

Venetia. Then up and let us go. 
I have without a gondola as swift 
As eagles' wings, mann'd by a crew as brave 
As Venice boasts: — Hugo did furnish these. — 
Thy jailor, old Gonsalvo, whom thou know'st 
Thy father's trusty servant, opens wide 
These dreary portals : quick, don this disguise 
And let us fly. 

(She takes a Boatman's dress from under her mantle.) 

Clodio. Fly ? Aye, and to what purpose ? 8* 



94 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

To be pursued, ta'en like a skulking knave, 
And hurried back to death? If thou hadst known 
What guard the winged lions keep o'er Venice 
Thou hadst not hatch' d this scheme. I will not go! 
Venetia, (eagerly.*) 
We shall not be pursued, — we shall escape ! 
The Doge hath said, — "I cannot pardon him; 
But if he 'scape there shall be no pursuit 
Until such time as he shall well have reach' d 
The bound'ries of the state." 

Chdio. Ha! said he that? 
Quick, give me the disguise ! 

{He seizes the disguise.) 

Venetia. He's sav'd, he's sav'd ! 

Hasten, sweet Clodio : by to-morrow's morn, 
The sun, which was to look upon thy death, 
Will see us far away upon the waves. 
In that sweet villa, by the Arno's banks, 
Where first thy love was whisper' d, will we live : 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 95 

Blest in each other's love and looking back 
Upon the mad distraction of these times 
As but a foil to make us happier still. 
Come, come ! why dost thou stay ? 

Clodio. And men will say, 
Speaking of this in the far time to come — 
' Venice knew nothing nobler than this house, 
Until one Clodio, doom'd to unjust death, 
Did prove himself a coward, — basely fled, — 
Leaving his name the scorn of ev'ry tongue, 
And blacken' d all his race with infamy V — 
I will not go ; I cannot go, Venetia ! 
Forth from the glorious past, a thousand forms 
Of my dead fathers rise and wave me back 
From this foul outrage on their noble names. 

{He throws down the disguised) 

Venetia. Thou wilt not go ? Distraction ! 'Tis a fiend^ 
Not Clodio, who doth thus assail my hearing. 



96 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Thou canst not mean it ! Know'st thou not 'tis 

death — 
'Tis death, thy resolution ushers in ? 

Glodio. Aye, death, Yenetia ! Wherefore speak it 
thus, 
With such a terror in thy qui v' ring voice ? 
'Tis not so terrible ; it seems to me 
'Tis not the grisly monster that they paint : 
But rather 'tis a matron meek and mild, 
Who stretches forth her sheltering arms for us 
And bears us in her bosom safe and hush'd 
E'en as a mother bears a weary child. 

Venetia. Yes, yes ; — but then this death upon the 
wheel; 
To see thy qui v' ring limbs, thy writhing form, 
The foam upon thy lips all fleck' d with blood : 
To see thee as my father was last night, 
All red with gore, — oh, horror, horror, horror ! ! ! 
{She hides her eyes, — a pause.) 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 97 

Clodio, thou' It go with me — I know thou wilt. 

Oh, I did strive so hardly for thy life, 

And 'twas but now my hopes did soar so high, — 

It would be eruel beyond all expression 

If thou wilt not ; nay, do not shake thy head 

With such a sigh : I tell thee thou must go !— 

Grant me thy pardon if my words exceed 

The bounds of maiden modesty, for I 

Am frantic— mad ! What is this dainty honor 

Thou dost speak of? Does it forbid the man, 

Unjustly charg'd, to save his judges from 

A dreadful crime ? To save thyself and me 

From death and madness by a little time 

Snatch' d from oblivion ? 

Clodio. My poor Venetia, 
Thou mak'st excuses, not an argument. 
Honor ! 'Tis boundless as the universe, 
And yet it may be held in little compass : 
'Tis mighty as the ocean in a storm, 



98 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

And yet so weak, a child may overthrow it : 
'Tis brilliant as the sun with all his beams, 
And yet the slightest breath will tarnish it 
Beyond redemption ; 'tis a paradox : 
Stern and yet gentle, — constant and yet fickle; 
No, no, Venetia : importune no more ; 
Tho' I possessed a boundless sea of honor, 
A drop of it were worth a thousand lives. 
Venetia, {eolcly.) 
And so thy mind is fix'd ? Thou wilt not go ? 

Clodio. Not on such terms. In such a ease as this 
I have no choice : the path of honor is 
To cleave unto our house's purity : 
That stainless it may not record I fled, 
A coward, from the judgment of my country. 
I have no fear of death : the innocence, 
Conscious within me, doth oppose a mail 
Impenetrable 'gainst all suffering. 
'Tis but the guilty wretch would seek by flight 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 99 

To save his life, — a wretched fugitive. 

No, I must die ! 
Venetia, {resolutely.) 

Then I will die with thee. 

Be sure, the sun which rises on thy death 

Shall herald me to heav'n. 
Clodio, (aghast) 

Why, thou art mad ! 

Venetia. Yes, yes, I am — too true, I am : but still 
There's purpose in my madness, Clodio. 
Death bears no terrors ; — think on thy own words i 
"'Tis not the grisly monster that they paint: 
But rather 'tis a matron meek and mild, 
Who stretches forth her sheltering arms for us, 
And bears us in her bosom, safe and hush'd r 
E'en as a mother bears a weary child !" 
; Tis my own thought. 

Clodio. This is not well, Venetia. 



100 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Venetia. I>ost thou remember, once thou told'st me of 
That noble Roman dame, who, when her lord 
Was doom'd to death, yet was allow'd to choose 
The manner of his death, did snatch the knife 
From his reluctant hand and drove it home 
To her owu heart : then gave it back and said — 
u Sweet love, there is no pain/' — and, smiling, died. 
Thou then didst say that all th' angelic host, 
With waving pinions and triumphant songs, 
Must have come forth to welcome her to heav'n. 
So shall they me. 

Glodio. Nay, nay, not so, Venetia! 
It was a heathen dame who did that deed : 
She answer' d nobly to her sense of right : 
But thou hast other guides : — look to thy faith, 
That, precious balm to south misfortune's wounds. 
Religion is a heav'nly gem, which shines 
With purer lustre when 'tis placed within 
The jetty setting of adversity ! 



THE IT ALIAS BRIDE. 101 

Look thou to that and when I shall have gone 
And the whole heav'n shall darken to thy sight 
Thou'lt find this star shine ever brighter from 
The blackness of the sky. 

Venctia. When thou art gone ! 

Olodio. If thou should'st die, Venetia, who is left 
To rescue from its shame my memory ? 
Thy portion will be solitude, 'tis true : 
But thou wilt need no manly arm to shield thee. 
Men will regard thee with a holy awe, 
As one made sacred by her many griefs : 
The poor will love thee with a tender love, 
For thy kind heart will sooth away their sorrows : 
Each soul bow'd down with grief will turn to thee, 
For thou wilt weep with them and ev'ry tear 
Shall consolation bring : until at length 
Thou' It seem an angel sent down from the skies 
To banish grief. Oh, from such lips as thine 

9* 



102 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

My innocence asserted shall be thron'd 
Upon the minds of all ; and, when the time 
Of thy long trial reaches to its bourne, 
Thou'lt find me waiting to conduct thee hence 
To happiness eternal. 

Venetia. Oh, speak no further; 
Thou must not die: M to the Doge once more. 

(Going.) 

OlodiOj (much affected and stretching his arms towards 
her.) 
My Venetia, we may not meet again ! 

Venetia, (returning and embracing him 'passionately.) 
Oh, say not so : oh, Olodio, say not so, 
Lest that thou fright' st me from my enterprize : 
And yet it may be : so I will not go. 

Clodio. Yes, go, Venetia, and heav'n crown thy pray'rs 

With all success. Farewell, sweet love, farewell. 
{He leads her to the door, and exit Venetia sobbing,) 



THE ITALIAN P.1UDE. 103 

Clodio. And farewell too to hope ! I do remember 
How when last year they took that eaitiff spy 
And bound him to the wheel, the writhing wretch 
Did howl for mercy, supplicating death. 
What if my courage fail beneath the pain 
And 1 should groan : ah, there's a fearful thought I 
Or, as the torture racks my stiff' ning limbs 
And my blood oozes from the tightened thongs, 
Should beg a little water for the sake 
Of mercy, even from the loathsome hands 
Of the abhorred executioner. 
I do mistrust myself and I would die 
A thousand deaths sooner than this should be i 
Come then thou blessed refuge from distress. 

{Takes a phial from his bosom?) 
I little thought when first I did procure thee 
To guard my honor, if perchance the Turk 
Should take me captive, e'er to find in thee 
My firmest friend in such a coil as this. 

(Enter FRIAR unseen from behi?id>) 



104 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Come, thou benignant soother of my fears, — 
Thou blessed angel, who doth stand betwixt 
A felon's doom and mej come, gentle Death, 
And waft me on thy dusky wings from earth. 
Venice, I drink to thee ! 

{He raises the phial to his lips.) 
Friar, {rushing forwards and matching the phial.) 
What wouldst thou do? 

Clodio. Is fate then so unkind ? I would have 'scap'd 
The infamy of death. 

Friar. Thou fear'st not that : 

It is the dread of torture that appals thee. 
If, in the stead of torment, thou'd'st been doom'd 
Unto a speedy end, thou hadst not thought 
Of infamy in death. Why, know'st thou not 
Only the coward seeks at times to die ? 

Clodio, (angrily.) 
Dar'st thou say 't? 



THE ITALIAN KR1DE. 105 

Friar. Aye, I dare to speak the truth. 
Unthinking man, thou cry'st against the doom 
Which Venice gives thee to, and yet thou'dst go 
With murder, fresh upon thy soul, to judgment, 

Clodio. What murder dost thou speak of? 

Friar. 'Tis thine own, 
Which is the worst of murders in this fact: 
The deed which makes the crime doth take away 
All chance of due repentance. Who art thou 
That with a sinful hand wouldst dare forestal 
The awful will of God ? I know thee brave : 
Even thy foes will not gainsay thee that : 
To-morrow thou wilt battle with a foe 
More dread than all the panoplied array 
That war delights in; thy trial is at hand 
And wilt thou at this moment quail before 
The terror of his presence ? Fear'st thou pain ? 
Quick, — don the armor of thy fortitude, 
And die triumphant even o'er thyself. 



106 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Glodio. Thy words are like the trumpet note, which 
calls 

The warrior to the battle, and my soul 

Is up in arms to dare them to the worst. 

Shrive me, good father, — shrive me of my sins. 
(He kneels before the Friar who stanch over him in 

the attitude of benediction and the scene changes^) 

Scene II. — A room in the Ducal palace. Enter Doge 
and attendant. 

Doge. Thou sayst she craves admittance to our presence ? 

Attendant. Your highness, yes; and such entreaty 
made, 
So eloquent of grief, as mov'd the hearts 
Of all who hear'd her pray'r. 

Doge. Alas, poor maid! 
Give her admittance without more delay. 

(Exit attendant.) 
Doubtless she comes to tell us of his safety: 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 107 

I trust it may be so : my heart doth shrink 

From snapping short the life which sav'd mine own. 

(Enter VenetIA.) 
Well, has he fled 1 
Venetia, (passion ately. ) 
He will not go, my lord, 
He will not go ! 

Doge. Thou'rt mad to tell me so ! 

Is he, then, sick of life that he would stay 
To meet a felon's death? 

Venetia. I urg'd him thus : 
I wearied him with pray'rs that he should fly : 
Alas, 'twas tho J I spoke to soulless marble ! 

Doge. What answer did he give ? 

Venetia. That life was sweet 
When honor was the food by which it throve: 
But, tho' he had a thousand lives to lose, 
He would not cast them in the scale 'gainst honor. 



108 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Doge. 'Twas like his noble self! Oh, Venice, Venice, 
The fairest gem which glitters in thy crown 
Is madly thrown away. I can no more : 
The die is cast and were he my own son 
I could not save him now. 

Venetia. Oh, speak not thus : 
Thou'rt potent, wise and good : thou know'st some 

means 
To help us from this strait: I know thou dost. 
Oh, save him, mighty Duke ; oh save him, save 
him ! 

{She throws herself at his feet.) 
Doge. It is impossible ! 

Venetia. It cannot be ! 
Art thou not prince — and who will dare say 'nay/ 
If thou dost give assent unto his pardon ? 
Oh, spare him gracious prince ! Let him but live 
And he shall give his life up to the State, 
Her bulwark and defense: his care for her 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 109 

Shall never find a rival in my love. 
I'll give up all for him : his ev'ry thought 
Shall be for Venice only : let him but live 
And I shall die content, the bride of Heav'n. 
Doge, (i-aising her,) 

Listen, Venetia; Clodio sav'd my life 
And, would to God, I could requite the gift. 
It cannot be : e'en tho' I grant the boon 
Thou ask'st, the dreaded Council of the Ten, 
Jealous long since of Clodio's rising fume, 
Would make the pardon void : perchance my life 
Would be the forfeit of my useless mercy. 

Venetia. They cannot be so heartless: they are men 

And owe their being to a woman's love. 

Tell them but this — this poor distracted maid 

But yester-morning was the happiest girl 

The sun e'er shone upon: but in one day — 

One little day — before a cloud arose 

In her pure heav'n of joy to give her warning, 

10 



110 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

The bolt came down : she saw her father dead : 

Her lover eharg'd with murder and oh God! 

The murder of that father : she, herself, 

A most unhappy, miserable wretch. 

Tell them nil this find if they but be men, 

Why they will pardon him for mercy's sake. 

Doge. Thou know'st them not, Venetia : they are such 
As heed not women's tears or strong men's groans : 
'Twere vain, indeed, to rest thy hopes on them. 

Venetia, {clasping her hands.) 
Where shall I turn, what can 1 say or do ? 
Tho' it were true that Clodio slew my father, 
It was my sire he slew and 1 forgive him ; 
The loss was mine and I am satisfied. 
Then wherefore do ye hunt him thus to death? 

Doge. A ruler is the father of his people, 
Whose lives are sacred to him as his own . — 

Venetia. It is not true ! A loving father truly 



T II E I T A LIAN BRIDE. Ill 

Art thou to mc and Cloclio. Father indeed ! 
Thou dost but mock my grief and time fliers by 
The short, short time that I can see him still. 
1 will away to him and we shall pray 
A greater prince than thou, for that high justice 
Which thou wilt not bestow. 

Doge. Hear me, Venetia! 

Venetia. Oh, speak to me no more, lest that my lips 
Should break out into curses : ye're all alike ! 
Ye' re all athirst to lap his guiltless blood 
And heap up burning coals on my poor brain. 
God will requite ye for all this; be sure 
He hears the cry of tortur'd innocence 
And will not let it pass. 

Doge,. Hear me, Veuetia ! 

Venetia. I will not hear thee. Waste thy breath in 
pray'r 



112 THE IT ALLAN BRIDE. 

To heav'n to mitigate the awful doom 

Your crimes will bring upon this haughty city. 

Ye're all alike and I have done with ye. 

(Going.) 
All, all alike : all hard, and stern and cruel, 

( Exit speaking . ) 

END OF ACT IV. 



TUB ITALIAN BRIDE. 113 

ACT V. 

Scene 1. — A street in Venice. Venetia discovered 
reclining on a flight of steps. Her dress much 
disordered and her hair dishevelled. Time — early 
dawn. 

Venetia. Then; breaks the dawn at last, — the fearful 

dawn, 

The herald of the still more frightful sun. 

Methinks an age hath pass'd since my poor head, 

By anguish overwrought, sank down forlorn 

Into forgetfulness, save that at times 

Recall' d to dreamy life, methought I hear'd 

Sweet voices murmuring from the still canal, — 

"Come, here is rest, Venetia: come to us: 

We'll spread a couch for thee beneath the wave 

Where thou shalt be at peace !" I would have gone 

But that I knew I could not see him there ! 

There is a heavy weight upon my brain, 

(She presses her hand to her head.) 
10* 



114 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

And J. am cold and weary — oh, so weary! 

({Sighs.") 
Failing Nature balk'd me of my nVd intent 
Of seeing him last night. I'll hide myself 
Ln some dark corner and, as he goes by, 

(Rises.) 
I'll run and cast my arms about his neck 
And go with him to death ! Aye, he may beg 
A little water in his agony 
To cool his burning lips. I'll bring it him: 

(The hell tolls, she shudders and speaks wildly.) 
Ha! are ye there? Are ye so keen of time? 
There was a merry peal for holiday. 

(Enter Lorenzo.) 
Good morrow to your Lordship ! Dost thou go 
To see the execution ? Come with me ! 

(She laughs ivildly.) 
'Twill be a merry show, and we shall see 't; 
Aye, that we shall. Come, come, thou must not 
stay; 



TIIK ITALIAN 1JRIDE. 115 

There'll be a crowd! Oh God, oh God, oh God!!! 
(She clasps her head in her hands,) 

Lorenzo, (aside.) 
Can she be mad ? 

(Aloud.) 
That is no place for thee, 
Fair lady; I do pray thee, go with me. 
Indeed, indeed, thou must not linger here ! 

Venctia. I must, I must. 

Lorenzo. Why, thou shalt see such sights 
As even cause the callous hearts of men 
To shudder with affright. Thou must not stay! 

Venetia. Wouldst separate the bridegroom and the 
bride ? 
It is not well that thou shouldst urge me thus. 
Wouldst have me leave him now, when all the world 
Is leagued for his destruction 1 I will stay 
Tho' my heart break in witnessing his pangs. 



116 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Lorenzo. If thou dost love him thus, thou yet may'st 
save him. 

Venetia, (sadly.") 
It cannot be : hope cheats me now no more, 
But with a pitying smile doth point me out 
My future comrades in this world of woe, — 
The patient sisters born of Grief and Faith, 
Pale Resignation leading dumb Despair. 

Lorenzo. Wouldst thou be willing to renounce his 
hand 
In case his life be saved ? 

Venetia. Thou dost but mock me; 
Did I not offer this unto the Doge ? 
Let him but live — but spare his precious life, — 
And screen' d w T ithin the cloister's sacred shade, 
Venetia dies content. 

Lorenzo. One other thing : 

Wouldst thou consent never to see him more? 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 117 

Venetia. If he should die, I'd never see him more; 
Then why not promise this? Plague me no longer 
With such questionings. 

Lorenzo. I can save thy Clodio! 
Venetia, (starting.') 
Thou canst? 

Lorenzo. Listen to me one instant longer. 
If I should save this man, wilt promise me 
To tear forth from thy heart each thought of love 
That hovers o'er his form? To look on him 
With the stern eye of cold indifference ? 
To force back to thy heart the joyful blood 
Which, flashing from thy cheeks, would greet his 

presence ? 
Wilt promise this? 

Venetia. No! That I will not do! 
Better that he and I and all should die 
Than he should live to feel contempt for mo 



118 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

And I, to see and know 't, What thy intent 
To torture me so cruelly may be, 
Surpasses all surmise: but this is fix'd, — 
Whatever woe heav'n still reserves for me, 
I will not act a lie ! 

Lorenzo. It matters not. 

Venetia, from the hour when first I saw thee, 

Thron'd in my heart thy presence reign'd supreme 

At once my hope and torment : o'er thy form 

Fond mein'ry, brooding with incessant love, 

Gave birth to thoughts, each dearer than the other. 

Nay, turn not from me, — I will save thy lover — 

For but one kind glance from those azure eyes. 

Oh pity me, Venetia! let my love 

Be some atonement for my bold request. 

The hour appointed by my fate is come 

And seems auspicious in its time and place 

To plead my suit. Link but thy fate with mine 

And Clodio shall be free ! 

(The bell tolls.) 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 119 

Venetia, {recoiling. | 

Away, away ! 

Dost thou not hear my joyful wedding bells? 
A happy bridal would we have forsooth 
When e'en the hymns which consecrate my vows 
Would be his groans— his groans upon the wheel. 
Lorenzo, (eagerly.) 

I'll save his life : by heav'n's light, I will. 
Venetia, (scornfully. ) 
Enough, enough ! Thou seek to wed with me f 
The vulture weds not with the eagle's mate, 
Nor thou with Clodio's bride! 
Lorenzo , (angrily.} 
Why stand I here 

Exchanging reasons with a peevish girl 
And wasting honied words? Since thou wilt not, 
With gentle, loving force, I'll rule thy fate 
And hold myself in bondage to thy charms. 

(Advancing toivards her.} 



120 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Venetia, (retreating.) 
Why, this is insolence ! What mean thy words ? 

Lorenzo. Nay, never mind, fair mistress : thou art 
mine; 

Call on thy Clodio now ! 

(Seizes and attempts to carry her off.) 
Venetia. Unhand me, villain ! 

Help, help : Clodio ! Where art thou, Clodio ? Help ? 
Hvgo (within.) 

W T ho calls for help on him who most needs help ? 
(Enter Hugo and from the opposite side Dandolo, 

Pescara and Antonio. Hugo advances hastily on 

Lorenzo, drawing at the same time.) 

Insolent hound, this passes all endurance. 
(He seizes Lorenzo by the throat and hurls him off.) 
Lorenzo, (advancing.) 

Thou in my path again ! 

(They fight) 
Dandolo. My lords, my lords; 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 121 

Beat down their swords, Pescara! 
{After a pass or two, Lorenzo staggers back into 

Pescara' s arms.) 
Venetia to Hugo, (clasping her hands.) 

What hast thou done? 
Pescara, (to Lorenzo.) 

I trust thou art not hurt? 
Lorenzo, (faintly.) 

Nay, that's past hope : 

My time is up, Pescara. 

Venetia , (to Hugo.) 
Oh, my lord, 

Send quickly for a priest: let him not die 
With an unshriven soul. 

Lorenzo. Thy care is vain: 

But bless thee, lady, for the kindly thought. 
There is a weight of guilt upon my soul 
That I would cast away. Hark ye, Pescara ! 

11 



122 THE ITALIAN IMtlUE. 

This ebbing tide bath borne away my sight : 
Has the sun risen yet? 

Pescara. He lingers still : 
But all the east is flushing rosy red 
To herald his approach. 

Lorenzo, (with sudden energy?) 
There may be time. 

Hugo, away and save thy friend from death. 
Mine was the hand which struck the fatal blow, 

(To Venetia.) 
That robb'd thee, lady, of a father's care. 
I'd sought of him thy hand which he refused: 
And when my blood was hot with rage I met him, 
And, mocking at him, gave him a vile blow. 
He drew a dagger to defend himself, 
Which, wresting from his feeble grasp, I struck 
Home to his heart; — then, awed with sudden fear, 
I left the weapon reeking in the wound 
And cast away the sheath, which Clodio found. 



T II B I T A LIAS 15 It I D E. 123 

He is most innocent. 
Venetia, (passionately. ) 

Did ye hear that? 

Tell inc, my lords, did all of ye hear that? 

Did I not tell ye he was innocent? 

There still is time : Hugo, away, away ! 
Lorenzo, (faintly.) 

Help me within, Pescara: I shall faint! 

Forgive me, lady, for — 

(Fxtending his hand to VENETIA.) 
Venetia. I do, I do! 

But still my father's blood is on thy hands — 
(She averts her head, and exit Pescara and Dandolo, 

s iq rport ing Lorenzo. ) 
Venetia, (to Hugo. ) 

Lend me thy signet-ring; speak not a word, 

But speed thee on thy way ! 

(Exit Hugo.) 
(To Antonio.) 



124 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Haste to the Doge 

And tell him what thou heard'st Lorenzo say, 

And bear this ring as witness to thy truth. 

(Antonio takes the ring and exit,) 
How fast the eky doth brighten up with light, 

(She looks fearfully round.') 
As tho' the Sun did lash his coursers on, 
Striving with Hugo in this fearful race. 

{She looks after Hugo.) 
Faster, good Hugo! 'Tis for Clodio's life — 
Thy friend's existence, — faster, faster, faster ! 
{Exit speaking, with faltering steps after Hugo and 
straining her eyes after him!) 

Scene II. — The Square of Saint Mark. Time sun- 
rise. Clodio, Frangipani, Friar and Guards. — 
The wheel and executioner in the back around, 

Alberto. There comes the sun, my lord. 

Clodio. Aye, Frangipani : 
The last that ever I shall look upon. 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 125 

How splendidly he inarches up the sky, 
As tho' exulting proudly in the thought, 
His advent is my death ; o'er half the earth 
His kindling beams are waking joy and hope, 
While me they plunge into an endless night. 
; Tis a hard fate. 

Alberto. Thou dost not fear to die? 

Clodio, (indignantly.) 
No, by Saint Mark, I do not fear to die ! 
Let me but feel my war-steed s fiery tramp, 
But give me my good sword, and place me where 
The thund'ring battle drives its bloody course, — 
And never bridegroom sprang to meet his bride 
As T should leap to death, — a warrior's death! 
I do not fear to die ! — but I had hop'd 
The blasts of trumpets should my requiem be, 
And banners, torn by war's rude hand, my shroud. 
Here I shall suffer all the pangs of death 
A hundred fold — 

11* (The bell tolls: they pause a moment.) 



126 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Alberto. It is the third and last : 
My lord, prepare for death. 

Olodio. I am prepar'd : 

My peace is made with heav'n and earth. 

(lie throws off his cloak.) 
Executioner. My lord. 

You will forgive me for my share in this? 

Ciodio. Thou? Thou art nothing but the instrument. 
Take this, my friend, and do thy duty well. 

(He gives him his purse.) 
Now heav'n grant me firmness ! Venetia — 
Life, love and hope — farewell! 
(i/e ascends the platform and the Executioner binds 

him to the wheel.) 
Eriar } (elevating the crucifix.) 
My son, my son, 

Look to this blessed symbol of his pangs 
Who perish' d for thy sins. 

{Enter Hugo breathless.) 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 127 

Hugo, ('rushing forwards.} 

Hold ; on your lives ! 
(He throws the Executioner aside, cuts Clodio's bonds 

loith his dagger, and throwing his arms around 
him, draws him forwards,) 
Hugo. Thank God, I am in time. 
(Alberto and the Guards, close, up around them 

threateningly?) 
Alberto, (to Hugo.) 

In time, my lord ? 

How wilt thou answer this unto the Senate? 
Hugo, (breathlessly.) 

I am so spent with speed, I scarce can speak. 

I'll answer for it with his innocence, 

Which heav'n has made as plain as yon fair light 

Lorenzo — he of Arpa — he confess'd : 

My sword still blushes with the villain's blood ! — 

Why how now, Clodio ? Art thou ill that thuB. 

The blood forsakes thy cheeks? 



128 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Clodio, {faintly and leaning on Hugo.) 

'Tis over now : 

Prais'd be Saint Mark, our 'scutcheon still is pure. 
(He endeavors to stand upright.') 
Hugo. Nay, nay ! lean on me still j the beaded drops 

Are cold upon thy brow, and all thy frame 

Is trembling from this mighty stroke of joy. 
Glodio, (recover ing. ) 

I do assure thee I am strong again : 

Indeed, I need no help : I am no woman 

To be o'ermaster'd by excess of joy. 

Where is Venetia? how is her dear health 

And knows she these glad tidings? 

Hugo. Aye, my friend ; 

She had them from Lorenzo's fainting lips, 
And, mindless of herself, did speed rae on 
To intercept thy doom. 

Alherto. Here comes the Boge. 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 129 

Hugo. In fiery haste, yet hardly haste enough 

For such a narrow chance. 

{Enter Doge : he advances to Clodio and takes his 

hand.) 
Doge. Thou art, then, safe. 

Thanks be to Heaven, Clodio, thou art safe. 

Ourself did come in hot speed from our palace 

Quick as we hear'd the tidings of the morn. 

Hugo, we thank thee for thy care in this. 

Friar } {solemnly.') 

Nay, thank thy God, for 'twas his mighty hand 
Outstretch'd to save! 

Doge, {reverently and taking off his cap.) 
To his name be the glory 

{To Alberto.) 

Let the "Te Deunr" rise from ev'ry church, 
And let all Venice don her best attire; 
We'd have this day a solemn festival, 
And we, ourself, in solemn state will go 
To render up thanksgiving for the grace 



130 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Which has spared Venice such a henious crime. 
Make proclamation of this throughout all — 
(Venetia totters in : she stretches her arms towards 
Clodio, who saves her from falling by springing 
forwards and catching her in his arms: she weeps.) 

Glodio. Look up, look up, Venetia : I am free : 
The night hath pass'd, my love, and all the clouds, 
Which frown' d upon our bliss, have fled away 
Before the joyful dawn. My own sweet love, 
In the tumultuous throbbing of thy heart 
I hear a thousand seraph voices sing 
The chorus of my joy ; nay, why these tears ? 

Venetia. Oh Clodio, let them flow : they are the dews 
That morn reveals when sorrow's night is past. 
In the sad time which bound my brain with fire 
I could not shed these tears j so let them flow. 

Clodio. And art thou happy now? 

Venetia. Ah ; canst thou ask? 



THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 131 

Art thou not safe and art thou not to me 
The earthly sum of all my happiness? 

{Enter Pescara and Dandolo.) 
Pescara, Lorenzo's dead ! 

Doge. Thus died a wicked man. 

Venctia. May gentle heav'n mind his late repentence 
And pardon him his sin. 

Clodio. Amen, Venetia. 
An hour ago, he triumph' d in his evil 
While I came forth to death : now he lies cold 
And life and joy are smiling on my path. 
Thus in disaster, never let despair 
Beat down the spirit, wrestling with its fate : 
Hut on the future fix a dauntless eye 
And firmly trust to Honor, Truth — 

Venctia. And Love. 



132 THE ITALIAN BRIDE. 

Wheel and Executioner. 

Guards. Guards. 

Doge, Venetia, Clodio, Hugo. 

Alberto. Pescara. 

Friar. Dandolo. 



mmm 







Urn 



.<** 






Ai 



mmxmM 



IHHiffliSini(ii C0NGRESS 

015762 488 A + 



) ■) 


t.iyp ") j^^3^J ■ 


?'0 


^& ^"B^fe' 


J) '■ 


y^Jgiif- j ^^^SSSf '■■ 


, l ' 


SPlyP> ^3^))13Bq^. : 


1 


fel^B© o ^iD)~yBjpy 


! a 


fc'£»jfe I^)3HrP" 


'€ 


R$i>Sf "3)>)^^j|m] 


f) 


K't-ii^fe 3ife> jfjiw 


■5 


lpt>X& j>^yS"TjKi 


~\ 


P'l3^fe jj^ »jSj 


"i 


P'^^S; r^}) ; jEjH 


ii 


pfet>5* ~^b ' ") 301 


/> 


p» j^xi 


o 


5^)'ii)0^ isp 3 j^ifl 




• >s^)"5^ I2P3 : : Ht3l 


;>/ 


•"■'■' t>y3& js6o "iSQp 


!i)J 


Ma) l^ls jk>3 ;> J»4 


1 


S > ^ ^ J 5^ 




M v &>»355Sx 


#}' 


*>? ?3W >> ft 


.■.',, 


|)J2tf$ra40» H^ 


1 ■■■!, 


WB m^X?> ^ 




UJ*>>»?S>>1»>)>0"» 


v; 


>W«3 >>>V$ 




l)B)^B>J'»^ 




>>»>&>»^>J 




|T«0>1S^ >»\1 




f»2T 


8>J MJ) L 


mm 


.«?• *3>S} ' 


m>M 


i>.^)^^>>) • 


mm 


KWO?^V ; s 


yfljiSSfi 




m 








